


Candles

by Nny



Category: Discworld - Terry Pratchett
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-05-16
Updated: 2011-05-16
Packaged: 2017-10-19 11:50:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 819
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/200538
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nny/pseuds/Nny
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>Even in spring the night will eventually draw in.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	Candles

Even in spring the night will eventually draw in. There was the slightest flicker of the candle-flames as Drumknott drew the curtains.

“Thank you, Drumknott. And now… a cup of tea, if you would be so good? And one for my guest, naturally.” The fact that Drumknott didn’t glance around the room in surprise, looking for someone he couldn’t possibly see, was rather the reason Vetinari had hired him. He closed the doors behind him, and Vetinari went back to his paperwork.

A young man came forward, out of the shadows.

“You saw me?” he sounded faintly impressed.

“No. But I knew, of course, where you would be. It was only a matter of timing, and I have an _excellent_ memory.”

“Yes,” agreed the young man. “We do.”

Vetinari looked up at him at last, smiling slightly.

“Knowing that as you do, one might question your judgement in coming here.” Havelock looked at him questioningly, but behind the face Vetinari could see cogs whirring, thoughts clicking into place, a conclusion being reached. It was subtle, but it was clear to those who knew how to look. He would learn to hide that. “A wise man doesn’t face an enemy he knows has the advantage.”

“I wasn’t aware that this was a fight.” His tone was amused, but Vetinari didn’t have to _hear_ the trace of uncertainty. He remembered it well enough.

“Everything is a fight, Havelock. You will learn that.” He shuffled his paperwork into a neat pile, then placed his hands flat on the desk. “I have the advantage because I remember what happened here, while you obviously cannot. The question,” he stood in one fluid motion, ignoring the cane that leaned against the wall within easy reach, and walked around the desk to stand just in front of himself. “The question is whether I will let my,” he smiled again, “ _affection_ lose me the advantage.”

“You can’t kill me. I’m _you_.”

“I said nothing about killing.” Havelock blanched a little, and he couldn’t imagine that the smile twisting his face was a pleasant one.

“You cannot change the past.”

He sighed, looking away for a moment, regret clear on his face. “No. I cannot. All these years, I had hoped that somehow it would be possible, but…” he looked at the younger man, who looked genuinely confused at the sudden heat in his eyes, “I cannot change the past.”

Even as he leaned forward, even as he crushed his mouth against the younger man’s, he was remembering how it had felt before. Feeling the kiss as both predator and prey, unsure if he was sliding his hands into Havelock’s hair just so because he wanted to, or because he remembered that that was how it should be. He relished the moment when he had finally given in, Havelock’s mouth opening under his, hot and wet and perhaps less skillful than it would eventually be but complementing him perfectly in every way. Young hands sliding over robes sliding over scars that he knew weren’t yet mirrored. Perfectly matched heights, fitting flawlessly as Havelock pressed forward against him, rocking his hips slightly, unsure of what to do.

This time it was _his_ turn to teach. It was _he_ who unbuttoned and pushed aside clothing, _his_ pale hand cool against Havelock’s stomach, cock. He stroked… himself, his technique the same as it had been for years but strangely reversed. He swallowed Havelock’s every gasp and moan, held him upright as he shuddered and came, cleaned him off and rearranged his clothing and gave him one last, soft kiss before backing away.

“There was something you wanted to ask me.” It wasn’t a question.

“I wanted to know why I would be always alone. Now I think I understand.” The sympathy, the sadness, the shared understanding in the familiar eyes undid him, and at last he understood the look of intense pain he had once seen on his older self’s face. He waved Havelock away as the other man stepped forward, and covered his eyes for a moment. When he straightened, all trace of expression was gone from his face.

“You must go, now. That is all. There was no more.” He didn’t have to watch as Havelock left; instead he watched the candle-flames flicker a little.

There was a soft tap at the door, and his voice was completely steady as he bid Drumknott enter, the man carrying a tray on which there were two cups.

“Thank you, Drumknott.” His clerk bowed slightly, dark eyes unreadable, and turned to leave.

“Wait.” The man turned back and Vetinari smiled, faintly but genuinely. “My guest had to leave. Would you care to have tea?” An answering smile crossed his clerk’s face; perhaps the first genuine one Vetinari had ever seen there. And he reflected that although even in spring the night drew in, there would always be candle-flames to dispel the darkness.


End file.
